Agents the Series: Hard Reset
by Overlord Mordax
Summary: Recently made an Agent, Vin goes out on patrol to stretch his legs, and winds up fighting for his life against Grimoires. Meanwhile, Jones is working on a desperate attempt to save the man who once loved him. The long over due ending.


A/N 1: No excuses.

A/N: This story takes place in the 'Agents the Series' variant of the Matrix universe which takes into account very little from the trilogy past the first movie. IE Smith, Neo, Morpheus, and Trinity are all still around. To read more on Agents the Series, see my other fics, or the fics of Stormhawk.

Agents the Series: Hard Reset

By Overlord_mordax

Vin rested his chin on his wrists. He was back in his office, which was still pretty bare bones not having had the chance to decorate yet. Oh no, he'd been busy _having his ass handed to him_.

He grimaced at the thought. He still had that new agent smell1 and the first thing he'd had to do was go into a firewalled zone; the one place he could actually die now. Smooth. He'd regained consciousness in the infirmary with Stef and the medical agent standing over him.

"Rise and shine, kiddo," Stef had said as he sat bolt upright.

"What the hell?" he looked around, still tense from battle and wondering where he was. He'd perceived nothing between(presumably) being knocked out, and awakening. If Stef said he'd been knocked out though, he believed her. How embarrassing! He wouldn't be surprised if he'd lost his chance with her permanently after such a poor performance.

He fumed, strands of raven hair falling around his chin. Vin brushed them away and touched his face where if he'd been human, he'd have had a series of deep gashes just waiting to scar. As it was they were gone before he'd awoken. He'd never have known they were there in the first place if Stef hadn't mentioned. He had a good idea where they'd come from though. That beast; the one he'd been talking to before the lights went out.

What had he said his name was? Greymarsh? _Grimoires_.

Up to this point Vin hadn't been particularly upset about his missing three months of memory, but he wished he knew the story of how he'd gotten mixed up with such a weird creature. And one who thought he had Vin's number.

_Predator's soul. _Poetic, if a bit cheesy.

Vin left up suddenly, causing his big, leather swiveling chair to spin lazily in his absence.

The whole business gave him an itch somewhere under his skin that sitting around brooding wouldn't satisfy.

He marched out of his office and down the antiseptic corridor of the agency to where he knew Agent Stef Mimosa's office was. It was past three in the morning (ha hadn't looked at a clock, the information was just _there_) but he knew she wouldn't be asleep.

_Will I miss sleeping? I _don't_ miss the voices in my head._

He knocked politely on Stef's door. He had a brief, inappropriate fantasy about what she might be doing in her office, but it was banished when she answered, fully clothed.

"Vin," she answered, a little hesitantly, but not unwelcoming. "What's up?"

He shrugged fluidly. "Not much; feeling a little restless. I was wondering if you wanted to do a patrol with me."

"Ah, sorry, Vin, I'm a little busy at the moment."

She didn't elaborate, and his mind momentarily returned to the gutter.

"Although," she added, "If you wanted to you could pull one of next recruits on the roster — if their partner doesn't mind, anyway."

Vin grinned slightly, "Yeah, I think they'll really turn down the chance to skip patrol."

Stef smirked back, "Well they might if they're as keen as you are."

He clicked his tongue. "Well, gotta figure out this new bod sooner or later."

She laughed. "You do that. Good night."

"Morning."

"Whatever."

000

Stef sighed, and returned to her previous engagement. She hadn't exactly lied to Greer— to Vin, but she'd felt the need to come up with an excuse. Truthfully, it made her feel weird to be around him, since he'd become an agent. More like, uncomfortable.

She felt like he'd changed, a lot. She didn't think that she'd changed that much when it had happened to her.

Was it just a result of his missing time? Was this just the way he'd been before the events of the last three months?

She wanted to think so, but she couldn't help but think of the more sinister alternative. There were only three agents who had been converted from human. What if he was going the way of Carol Whitman?

Even disregarding what it would mean for Vin, Stef hadn't been lying to Brown when she'd said the mainframe was going to pull the plug on the project if something went wrong now. If Vin turned out to be insane, or corrupted, or whatever, she'd be deleted.

Oh, Jones and Smith would try to weasel her out of it, and if they failed there was the looming possibility of exile…

The whole thought was terrifying.

No, she decided. I can't think like that. Vin just needs some time to adjust. He's been through a lot. A hell of a lot. Jones will find a way to restore his memory, and he'll go back to being the guy we all knew before. End of story. No need to speculate.

Stef returned to her book.

She brought a glass of warm milk with her.

000

Vin ran his eye down the recruit patrol roster. He still felt sour disappointment that Stef wouldn't be coming, but some of that lifted when he saw whose number was up.

It was Casey, the recruit he'd fooled around with the day before. He grinned, a bit ferally, and headed for the recruit barracks.

Unlike Stef, Casey _did_ answer the door half-dressed and bleary eyed.

She looked at him muzzily for a moment, and then smiled. "Hey there hotstuff, back for another work out already?"

"Funny you should say that," he smirked and _required_ a cup of hot coffee. "You're going on patrol with me."

Vin could tell she knew better than to question his timing. If an agent, even one who'd started elewise said you were going on patrol, you were going on patrol.

She took the coffee." Let me put something more appropriate on. Though, you should know, a good fight tends to get me going." She winked at him.

"Me-ow."

000

They took his motorcycle. Cayce held on to his waist, and squealed excitedly into the night. Vin smirked to himself, while his newly cropped hair whipped out behind him.

"Keep an eye out for rebel activity," he shouted back to her with a laugh.

They were headed to one of the few places that was open at such a time, a night club—not coincidentally one of the primary meeting points of the 'red pills' as they called themselves, and their targets. Vin thought considering the regularity with which agents broke up these meetings, that perhaps the rebels would try convening in a laundromat or something. But they never did.

He wasn't complaining though; he couldn't get a beer at a Laundromat if conflict failed to show as it sometimes did.

Vin parked the motorcycle and scanned the short lien into the front door for signs of rebel 'marks' who were easier to pick out in this setting than the rebels themselves. One of the tell-tale signs was an visible unease at the setting; the marks tended to be distant loners, and rebels resorted to all sorts of tricks to get them to the meet-points. Another sure tipoff was carrying tech more expensive than the clothes they were wearing.

All Vin saw was a bunch of rich kids waiting to get smashed and have sex.

Casey headed for the back of the line, but he grabbed her wrist and shook his head. He held up two 'VIP' passes that he'd just required.

"Come here often?" Casey purred.

He laughed, and tugged her past the bouncer, who grunted them through, and into the pulsing lights and music of the club.

000

One monitor still watched him, a silent display of flashing lights and careless dancing. It shouldn't have been on; Jones should have deleted the program that kept on following him. It was a remnant of the time when there was anything in the matrix that mattered. But he couldn't bear to do it, some unknown subroutine rebelling every time he tried, and filling him with a wave of sickness.

The green-eyed agent couldn't stop staring at the flickering display. He watched the agent that he had made approach the bar and order a drink. There was a girl with him, clinging to his arm. Jones vaguely recognized her from the agency, a recruit. She was dressed like a whore. Jones tried not to look at her.

Greer had cut his long, dark hair. He had changed his name.

Jones had failed. He had tried to bring back recruit Greer, instead he felt as though he'd brought back some horrible sham, some mockery. Jones searched his memory looking for a human analogy. He found one. _The Monkey's Paw. _Was this what had to happen when you tried to bring back someone, someone you loved, from the dead?

He tried to shut down a wave of despair. He wished he could believe that he was merely experiencing some horrible glitch, and any moment he would snap back to reality, Greer's arms around his shoulders, calling him to come back.

It was wishful thinking.

How could three months change a human so much? Even if Greer had lost all of his memories of that time, Jones had known him then, through Katrina. He had been cool, yes, but not so cold as he seemed now; uncaring and flippant, and Jones had seen that there was a warm, good-humored person beneath his veneer of business and self-sufficiency. Jones couldn't see that in him now. Now all that seemed to be beneath his charming façade was nastiness.

What had caused that change? Was it the sudden empowerment and immortality? If Jones had made him an agent back then, would he have become this way? Was that who he was without the fear of death?

The agent couldn't believe it. But that denial only left one possibility, that the transfer process was inherently flawed, and that Greer was following a pattern of behavior he had seen before; that of Carol Whitman.

A shiver raked through Jones' programming. He wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't. He couldn't let Greer go like that, see him fall back into madness, maybe worse than ever before, any last scrap of his old self buried and snuffed out, unable to scream for help.

He thumped his consol angrily.

He wouldn't let that happen! And he wasn't going to.

He had to restore Greer's lost data. Maybe there was more than just that last three months; missing data whose absence was causing Greer's behavior. If he could restore it, then everything would be fine.

If he couldn't restore it, then he didn't deserve his position as the most effective technical agent in the matrix. If he couldn't, he would have the matrix restore him from an earlier back up, one from before he had met Greer.

And then he wouldn't have to exist with the pain and the guilt and the sorrow of what he had wrought.

With deep determination Jones set his slender fingers on the keyboard and called up the data that had been rendered junk during Greer's restoration. He scanned each line of code much faster than was possible for any human, not yet making corrections, but familiarizing himself with the patterns, seeing for where bits were truncated or transposed. It seemed hopelessly shattered into a million meaningless fragments, but he would put it together again.

000

If Jones had continued to watch his monitor he would have seen the lean, noble-faced businessman approaching the nightclub. He might have detected the difference in code than marked It not as a human, but an exile. But Grimoires was allowed to approach undetected.

A man in an expensive, impeccably-tailored suit with a hat that shadowed his face, and a pair of spectacles that seemed to reflect all light away from his eyes, and he strolled in like owned the place. The bouncer did not even blink- this was a man who did not trifle with such petty things.

He surveyed the crowded; watching the sweaty mass of humanity writhe in the pulsing music and lights. They looked… appetizing.

Grimoires was not here for some grand plan, not tonight. Now he was just here to hunt.

The brightly colored dancers parted their sea unconsciously to let the predator through to the counter where the bartender gave him her immediate attention.

"Brandy," he purred. "Your finest."

The woman, a slim, young creature in violent pink and black, nodded, and pulled a bottle from the very top of the shelf behind her. She poured a measure of rich liquid into a small glass. He tipped her too-generously and smiled wickedly at her bubbly grin.

He was about to say something else, when some idiot jostled his shoulder. Grimoires' head whipped around, and he snarled at the offender even before he saw who it was.

"Hey, watch the fangs, buddy," the offender snapped, tossing his raven hair around his face.

A broad, predatory grin split Grimoires' face as he recognized the man. "Oh, do pardon me, Greer."

000

Vin furrowed his brow in confusion, looking the other man over without recognition. "I'm sorry, do I know you, man?"

"Why, of course you do, young hunter."

The man clearly excepted him to react to the epithet. "I think you have me confused with someone else." Vin wished he could know that for certain, with three months missing from his memory, he could have dated this guy for all he knew. Not that Vin usually went for older men, and the smirk on the guy's face was making him uncomfortable.

The other man seemed to scrutinize him, his smile fading. "Is that so?"

Before Vin could react, the man's hand darted out like a striking viper , and a claw-like fingernail grated across Vin's cheek, drawing blood. Vin hissed and pulled back sharply, drawing his gun and sticking it in the guy's face. In the corner of his eye Vin saw the bartender drop to the ground in panic.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled.

The man seemed to be paying no attention to the gun in his face. He licked his finger.

For just a moment the man looked surprised. Then realization dawned. "Oh. I see."

The man lunged, claws seeming to extend from his delicately manicured fingers.

Vin just barely reacted in time; rolling off the barstool onto the cement floor and bringing his gun up for a shot. The muzzle flashed- another bright light in the club. But everyone recognized the sound. In a panic the dancers began to flee.

Had the shot hit If it had, the man hadn't reacted at all. He had landed in a crouch, right in front of Vin, a mocking, toothy grin spread over his features. Vin sprung, flipping himself up, standing on the bar, and pointing his weapon down at his attacker. The place had cleared out, and the door was hanging open, letting in a slight breeze that tugged at Vin's hair.

"Who the hell are you?!"

The man laughed. He seemed to shimmer in the air for a moment, and then he was gone, replaced by a huge, crouching beast, part panther part lizard.

Vin's eyes widened in recognition. It was that- thing! "You!"

The beast's powerful back legs propelled it towards Vin with snarl, claws outstretched. Vin leapt to the side, wheeling through the air and landing further down the bar. He held his gun out, and Required his katana in his other hand, backing up slowly as the beast padded forward.

"Ah, you do remember," Grimoires purred. "I thought that something seemed different about you at our last meeting, but I couldn't quite place it."

"How do you know me, beast?" Vin felt his shoulderblades touch the wall. He'd come to the end of the bar.

"You really don't remember? Seems like someone must have botched their job when they brought you back from the dead, boy. Let's see if they've _left your power in tact!"_

Grimoires surged forward, his whole body flowing like water, lizard-tail lashing.

Vin stood, not hesitating, but waiting, and then, as the beast was almost upon him he leapt forward, landing again on the empty dance floor. It was too late for Grimoires to change his trajectory, and he smashed his paws futility, and perhaps painfully, into the wall. Before the beast could recover, Vin let off a shot that the beast took in flank. It rolled, and fell behind the bar.

For a moment Vin stood in silence, waiting for the next attack. Surely that one shot couldn't have taken him down. But the seconds ticked by and Grimoires did not reappear. Growing impatient, Vin stepped forward toward the bar. Slowly, at first, but gaining in confidence with every step. Idly, he wondered where the hell his partner had gotten to.

Vin was reaching the barstools, and about peer over the bar. He never got a chance, as Grimoires propelled himself toward the new Agent. Vin had no time to react; the attack connected, knocking him to the ground as four inch claws ripped into his chest.

Vin screamed in pain and struggled, both his gun and katana useless at this range. Grimoires claws dug deep into his flesh, teaching great gouges from him. The tail slammed like a club into Vin's head, trying to knock him silly.

He felt the beast's hot breath on his face. "Is this all the fight you've got in you, boy?"

Vin screamed his defiance, and summoned all his strength, dropping both his weapons, and trying to push the beat's mass from his body.

"THIS IS THE POLICE!"

Both combatants froze for a moment as the two officers blocked the door, their guns aimed into the fight.

Vin saw them, his vision upside down, and got an idea. 'I hope this fucking works,' he thought. He squeezed his eyes shut, and Required himself into the body of the lead police officer.

Vin was momentarily stunned as his stomach lurched, adjusting himself to the sudden change in position, and the sick feeling of the officer's mind being shut down and shunted backwards by Vin's presence.

He'd gotten out from Grimoires' claws, but the damage he'd done had come with him. The beast had somehow managed to damage his very code. He felt about ready to double over from pain.

There was a shout of alarm, it was the other officer, who had raised his gun to Vin in shock and panic. With supernatural speed, Vin grabbed the gun and pulled it from his hand. "Run!" he snarled.

Luckily the man didn't need to be told twice.

Vin turned back to the dance floor just in time to see Grimoires coming at him again. He dodged, and skidded across the floor, his boots hissing a trail of smoke at the speed. He turned swiftly, Requiring his katana back to him, and slashing down at the lurching beast as it made another pass at him.

Steel met claws, and the pressed down at one another, trying to break the stalemate.

"That's more like it, boy!"

Grimoirers' tail lashed like a whip, striking Vin's wrist, and casting the katana through the air. Vin leapt backward an instant too late, and claws raked him again, but he landed well away from the beast's grip, across the floor. He required his gun and shot repeatedly, running around the room, locked in a deadly dance as the beast tried to avoid the shots.

Somewhere in Vin's mind he realized that he was in bad shape and needed to get back to the Agency for treatment. And to murder his fucking coward of a partner.

The combatants stood, waiting, on opposite sides of the dance floor. If Vin wanted out, he was right by the door.

"Screw that!" Vin declared, spitting false blood onto the ground.

With a primal scream, Vin ran forward, katana in hand, and Grimoires came to meet him.

000

Jones had no idea how long he's been at his task, fingers flying across the keyboard, focused on nothing but the code before him. His glasses were set aside on another terminal. He was frustrated at himself. If it hadn't been for his code addiction he could jack directly into the program and perform even faster.

But he was making progress.

It felt strangely intimate; seeing everything that Greer was laid out bare before him, pieces of code like limbs on an operating table. There was more damage than even Jones had at first realized. At first he had despaired, as whole chunks of code seemed to have been lost entirely, and that repair would entail some horrible Frankenstein of code. But as he scanned further it turned out that was not the case. The pieces weren't gone, they were in the wrong places. Somehow, what Greer had gone through prior to his death had resulted in his code being mixed up, twisted and scattered like bits of a broken vase.

And like pieces of a broken vase, there was just enough unique and identifiable enough that a skilled enough mind could glue them back together.

Jones was that mind. And now that he knew what he was doing, and what to look for, the process when that much faster. He worked on, totally dedicated to the task, oblivious to anything else.

Ignored and unnoticed, on the screen above, Vin and Grimoires fought on.

000

Vin was wearing down. He didn't know if it was blood-loss, or code-loss, or what, but under the weight of repeated attacks, he was losing his strength, his speed, his fight. And Grimoires only seemed to be getting stronger.

If he'd still been human, his right arm would have been shredded and useless. As it was, it only ached, and added to his over-all fatigue. Like hit-points in a video game. He didn't think he had many left.

But that didn't matter. He was driven, maybe insane, to take this guy down.

Grimoires paced forward, both menacing and mocking. "Still not trying to flee, young hunter? I admit, you've got more spirit than even I gave you credit for."

"Yeah? Well fuck you!"

Vin came at him, shooting, and screaming, but Grimoires dodged every bullet, as though he were an Agent himself, and lunged, bear-like at Vin. Now, Vin was ready for him, and before the claws could wrap a hold of him, he Required the katana, and stuck it into where he hoped Grimoires ribs were.

Grimoires yowled and flailed, slumping to the floor, tail lashing, as Vin let go of the sword. A pool of ichor swiftly grew around his body.

Vin laughed, as the beast tried to pull the sword out with his teeth. "Not so tough, now, are you?" He felt a surge of elation; surely, now he'd beaten the thing.

"Oh you think so, young hunter?" The beast chuckled, and shimmed in the air. The man was back, his clothes and hair barely mussed. He reached a well manicured hand up, and pulled the sword out of his body. He stood up.

For the first time that evening, Vin felt real fear. "No way. No way. How can you be so strong?" He took a step back

The man paced forward. "Simple, young hunter. It is the life's blood of my enemies that sustains me. With every life I take, I add that power to my own."

"You, you freak!" Vin eyed the door. Now it was on the far side of the room. He'd have to go through Grimoires.

"Sticks and stones, boy. Now, let us finish this."

Vin didn't have time to react before Grimoires was on him. Even in human form, his claws were huge, and they dug into Vin's back as he was wrestled to the floor by the older "man".

Grimoires had him pinned. Vin didn't have the strength now to throw him off, and there was no one to jump into, and no way to move.

"Checkmate."

The claws stuck him over and over, ripping into his flesh. His chest, arms, neck, face, all were raked with the terrible claws. All Vin could do was scream in pain and anger as he grew weaker.

His vision started to grow dark with this much blood/code loss. Grimoires straddled him, and leaned over. He started to lick up the blood.

"Fucking… pervert," Vin choked out, blood in the way of his voice.

Grimoires only laughed.

This was it. It had been a short run; maybe he hadn't been cut out to be an Agent after all. Oh well. He'd gone out like a fucking badass at least. He wondered what would happen after he was died. After all, his real self had already passed on. Where was his soul now? Watching him fight? Probably wasn't a hell for dead programs…

"Oh, and young hunter, when you come back, I may just have a job for you."

…wh…?

…..

..

.

000

"Jones! JONES!"

"What is the matter?" Jones collapse back into his chair. Mimosa had burst into his office, just as he was getting up to celebrate his accomplishment.

"Jones, it's Greer, I mean, Vin! He.. he!" he halting speech finally stopped all together, and she reached up a hand, and pointed behind him.

Jones whirled around and stared at the monitor for the first time in over an hour. On it, he saw Vin's body, broken apart, bleeding, unmoving, and beginning to break down into code.

Jones felt a sick lurch in his program. "I…wasn't watching." He whispered. Again. He was dead again. It was his fault.

"Smith found out. He's going to go there. But…"

"It doesn't look like there's much left, is there?"

"It was Grimoires. Jones, I should have gone on patrol with him."

"It is not your fault, Mimosa. He had been quite reckless."

"Do you want me to sit with you?"

Jones shook his head, standing up again. "No, we have work to do."

""But he's… What are you going to do?"

"What we do for Agents that falls in battle, Mimosa. Restore from backup."

Jones slid his sunglasses back on, and strode out the door, a grim smile on his lips.

000

It had taken a day to get authorization from the Mainframe. Mimosa had been afraid that the program, and she, would be terminated for Vin's failure. Luckily, that was not the case. The mainframe still saw Agent Mimosa, and Agent Greer as valuable, and would continue the program. It agreed that Greer should be restored from backup.

It was the perfect opportunity for him to implement the repaired code. Jones had let Smith and Mimosa know that he had made a 'few repairs' before the restoration process began. Mimosa gave him a funny look, but something compelled him to keep the extent to himself.

He felt strange and conflicted. The thought that he had sat there, oblivious while Greer…Vin, fought and was destroyed might haunt him forever. The idea that he was attempting to profit on this horrible fact made him sick; he felt like a monster. But the somehow still the Agent that had died _wasn't Greer. _It was a mockery of him, and now, if Jones had done everything correctly, he'd get to have him back.

The waiting was the hardest part.

He'd been rezzed into existence in the infirmary a few minutes before; now he was laying there on the slab, like a body waiting for life, as the process finished.

They all waited in silence. Jones, Smith, Mimosa, and Brown (there only in case he had to 'put down an insane program), all watching in silence.

Greer's hair was back, of course, spilling over the table, gleaming raven-colored.

Jones watched Greer's face, looking for any sign of life, for any sign of the man he knew.

The infirmary Agent fussed for a while longer, and then he stepped back.

Seconds passed. Every cycle of Jones' programming was waiting…daring to hope.

There was a groan, and twitch, and the man on the slab shot up to a sitting position in panic, like a man awaking from a nightmare. He gripped his chest and panted.

Jones couldn't help taking a reflexive step forward to help him.

"Greer?" he asked hesitantly.

The raven haired Agent was patting down his body, seeming to check if he was all still there. He looked up. "Jones? What happened?"

Jones bit back his own creeping terror of the answer, and asked, "what's the last thing you remember?"

Greer brushed his hair out of his face, and rubbed his forehead. "It's all pretty fuzzy. I… I think I went nuts. I've got images, but nothing's really connected to itself. Did I die…?" When he asked this, he looked straight at Mimosa.

She nodded stiffly. "I had to…terminate you."

"Yeaah," he said, rubbing his neck. "From what I remember, I don't blame you."

Jones felt a little thrill. Vin hadn't remember anything near that much- he'd lost MONTHS of time. If he remembered dying, then he remembered…

"If I died, then how come I'm still here?"

"The mainframe decided it would be prudent to make you an Agent," Jones said.

Greer stared at him. "Really?"

"That is correct," Smith supplied.

"Wow."

Without a word, Brown turned around and stalked out of the room.

"It would appear that Agent Brown is satisfied with your behavior for the moment," Jones said, just the slightest trace of a smile on his lips.

"As am I," Smith said. "Mimosa, I believe we should allow Jones to bring Agent Greer up to speed with recent events."

Mimosa nodded, and shot Greer a questioning glance. He waved cheerfully back at her, as they left the room.

"How do you feel" Jones asked. He was still terrified that further probing would reveal some fatal, horrible flaw in this new Greer.

Greer looked over his shoulder at the infirmary Agent, who seemed to be totally ignoring them. He grinned at Jones, but there was no trace of the insane cruelty that Vin had displayed. "I feel like six million bucks, Jonesy. Can we get out of here? I never liked hospitals."

Jones felt lightheaded, hop and recognition alight inside of him. "If you are capable of walking, I can debrief you in my office."

"Can do." He hopped down handily from the bed, and put his hand on Jones' back. Jones froze, for just a moment, in shock, but kept walking. His mind was racing, and he fought to keep focus.

"There are some things you need to be aware of," Jones said.

"Shoot."

"It has been some time since the death you remember. You were made an Agent almost immediate, but… you had to be restored from backup."

Greer didn't break stride. "What? What happened?"

"The exile Grimoires destroyed most of your code." The grisly scene flashed itself in Jones' mind again.

"Grimoires? He's here in the regular matrix?"

"Unfortunately so."

"When did the bastard get me?"

"Approximately 34 hours ago."

Greer grimaced. "And uh, how long had I been online?"

"A week, perhaps." Jones said, as they stood before the entrance to his office.

"After you," Greer said, gesturing.

Jones couldn't help but smile, as he walked inside. However, once they were both in, and the door was closed, he was all business.

Greer was about to speak, but Jones cut him off.

"Agent Greer," he said fixing him with a steely gaze, "prior to this restoration, there were some malfunction with your code, which caused months of memory loss, and personality shift. It is vital for me to know where your memory begins to break down."

Greer stared at him, and then closed his eyes for a moment. "The last thing I remember really clearly is being in your office, and the computer saying Nicholas Edmund had shown up. After that, things get fuzzy…"

Jones felt his heart swell. "Then, you remember, for instance, when you assisted me in Japan, or when…"

It was Greer's turn to cut him off, with a rakish grin. He grabbed Jones' tie and pulled him close to his face. "Jones, relax. What, do you think I don't remember how madly in love with you I am?"

Jones began to shake.

Greer wrapped his arms around the Agent. "Hey, hey… it's okay…Jonesy, come on."

Jones sagged, resting his forehead on the tall man's chest. "That's exactly what happened," he said.

He felt Greer's grip on him tighten. "Yeah? Well, it's not now. I'm fine. You need to be fine too." He pulled Jones' chin up, and they kissed.

Jones whole being seemed to be filled with light, and warmth. And now, after so much uncertainty, he knew he really had Greer back. Everything would be okay.

000

Vin felt like shit. He didn't remember much about what had happened after he'd passed out, but he knew he'd been offered a choice. And Vin, he had chosen to live. To become an Exile.

He woke up on the pavement, in the middle of the night, in a dark alley in the city. He quickly realized that he no longer had access to the mainframe to Require. And he didn't have any place to go, either. Couldn't go back to the Agency; didn't want to anyway.

Maybe he should take that son of a bitch Grimoires up on his invitation…

END

Final Note: Greer and Jones are some of my favorite characters I've ever written, and the way that I left them in the middle of a heart-wrenching cliff hanger for years has been preying on my mind for a LONG time. So, finally, I got my act together and wrote this. The events above were always planned to happen, maybe with a little more time between them, and now they serve as the ending for the story. In my mind, it's a good place to end. Love has triumphed, but the story goes on. I hope it satisfies you as well.

It's been a blast.

Mordax

1 In fact he had no smell at all, which he found vaguely disconcerting. But what was he supposed to do 'require pleasing masculine odor'?


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